


To Rise Again

by alijah



Series: The Flying Trout and her pet Viper [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Headcanon, Multi, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:56:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alijah/pseuds/alijah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of Jon Arryn, Cersei rushes her father to Kings Landing to prevent a King's Hand of Robert's choosing. Tywin Lannister in an effort to ensure the success of his grandson's reign, and prevent any Dornish uprising arranges a marriage with Dorne between the Red Viper and the widow of the previous hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Rise Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silberias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/gifts).



> This fic originated in the comment section of the wonderful Silberias's fic, The Lady and the Scholar. Which you should all read.

_Dear Father,_

_Jon Arryn has died. Robert is in mourning and speaking of taking the whole court to Winterfell to ask Eddard Stark to be his hand. Please, come to Kings Landing as fast as you can. If you are here I can get Robert to name you hand. Stannis wants the handship but Robert will not give it to him which is a small blessing. The man would spend all his time shutting down brothels and taxing “sinners”, he is more self-righteous than any Septon I have met. Please, for your grandson’s sake, so that he may inherit a stable Kingdom, and so that he can be taught to rule the Lannister way. I beg of you, answer my call._

_Queen Cersei Lannister Baratheon, first of her name._

_In writing to Cersei Baratheon, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,_

* * *

 

_I received your missive and I am riding to your aid post haste. I will arrive no more than half a moon’s turn after this message reaches you. Have chambers suitable for the Hand of the King prepared for my stay. I shall need room’s for myself, Tyrion and Kevan as well as rooms for household knights, servants etc._

_Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West_

* * *

 

“Prepare rooms in the Maidenvault. I will need it cleared out with rooms for at least ten nobles and households to match. Cersei took a breath and kept her smile to herself. It would not do for people to see that she was not morning for the old curmudgeon. He had spoken vitriol and poison in Robert’s ears about her for years, she knew. It was he who had refused to allow her to sit on the small council, or at least tried to refuse her a seat on it. The honourable Jon Arryn, who could not see a woman as an equal, let alone a superior. He who stood in her way so many times, who expected when he first wrote her father expected a placid demure lady, who would sew and pray and not involve herself in things above her station.

Her father would arrive soon; at least that is what she predicted from his missive. Unfortunately Jaime was assigned to watch her oaf of a husband break his marriage vows again so she was without her lover for the time being. Nevertheless, Cersei would prepare for Lord Tywin’s arrival, and when Ser Barristan or one of the other bootlicker’s in white took over for Jaime he would join her. They knew they would have to be more discrete once her father arrived, especially given what her spy’s had told her about her good brother Renly and his little rose.

“Sister” Jaime called from behind her. She kept her face controlled as she turned around, aware as always of the eyes forever watching her.

“Shall we go pray?” she asked.

* * *

 

Lord Tywin’s arrival had sent the red keep into a tailspin. He had at once taken the mantle of Hand of the King and had moved into the residence she had appointed for him, leaving the late Hand’s family and household in the tower of the hand. People spoke of that as a kindness, as if he were doing it out of respect for the old man. Fortunately Cersei knew better. He wanted to keep that whale and her weakling close.

The day Jon Arryn had been found dead Cersei had seen the Lady of the Vale packing and realized she was about to run. Fortunately, Cersei smirked to herself; she had discovered them and forced them to stay put. Effectively making them prisoners to the Vale’s good behaviour, not that they were treated with anything less than perfect courtesy of course. Her father had been pleased with her when she explained what had happened, rewarding her with the promise that he would serve as hand for as long as she needed. Nonetheless there was work to be done. Her father had spoken with her about her remarrying and while she had been able to play the part of the mourning widow, to delay any plans Lord Tywin had for her marriage so far, it was worrying.

Lord Tywin Lannister sat in the solar that had been assigned to him, facing his daughter. They had reached an impasse. She had refused his suggestions for her to have another babe with Robert, and now it would be very suspicious if she were to suddenly exhibit a desire to have her husband fuck her. He had just received, as had most of Westeros the letter from Lord Stannis with vile lies about his children. Tywin’s hands still trembled with fury, that someone could write such vitriol, that people could cast such aspersions on the Lannister name. He was reminded of how they had laughed at his father and his whore. Laughed at their weakness and tried to ruin the family. It was only his strength that had kept Casterly Rock in their hands. The only relief had been that Robert had not believed it, had discarded it as petty jealousy. Though with his seeming unending libido Tywin knew it was only a matter of time till he would use it to set Cersei aside to take a more malleable wife; and only the gods knew what he would do to his children.

Nevertheless there was little point in dwelling on what could not be changed.

“We must make a plan to ensure the King dies before Stannis has a chance to convince the King of his lies, after which I had hoped to match you with Dorne. To tie them further to us and ensure that they are not tempted to rise for the Targaryen girl. It is good that she is a barbarian, and hopefully she will remain with the Dothraki, for no Westerosi would be content to see a barbarian horde but that does not solve our Dornish problem. They do have, however a son of age with Princess Myrcella –” he resounded.

“No, my daughter will not be sold to those ingrates. She is a princess of the Seven Kingdoms, no second son is good enough for her, even if he has the title of Prince” His daughter hissed, more venom in her tone then had ever been directed at him before. Lord Tywin stood, slamming his hand down onto the table with a _thud._

“Watch your tone when you speak to me” he snarled, keeping his voice low. Tywin took his seat, smoothing the front of his breeches before continuing in a softer tone.

“Your daughter will not marry Prince Quentyn or Prince Trystane. If you had let me finish you would know that I decided she was too valuable to sell to the Dornish” he kept his voice steady when Cersei interrupted again.

“And I am not?” Cersei muttered under her breath.

“No, you have a different kind of value. You will be a widow, but also a former queen. You will also be regent to a King and as such have duties in Kings Landing you cannot abandon. Myrcella has value in that she can leave Kings Landing to be with her husband, whoever he may end up being. All of this however does not change the fact that we need to join Dorne to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, especially in the face of the betrayal by both Stannis and Renly. I have a plan though, thanks to your quick action Lady Lysa Arryn is a loose end, Her son is currently too weak to hold the east. She needs a husband, and we need a marriage with Dorne. We are going to kill two birds with one stone” Tywin finished speaking. It was an ingenious solution if there ever was one. He watched his daughter lean back in her chair to digest the news.

“Are you not concerned that by allying the Vale and Dorne you will create a power bloc?” Cersei questioned. There was impertinence in her tone, but because she had raised a valid point Tywin deigned to answer.

“The Vale and Dorne are too far apart to mount any military threat to us, you need not fret, daughter” he simpered. Allaying, Tywin thought, her feminine worries.

“The Lady will not be pleased.” Cersei commented, ending the silence that had fallen.

“The Lady’s pleasure is of no concern. What I am concerned about is ensuring that Prince Doran accepts this marriage on behalf of his brother. Luckily there is no need for heirs so the Lady of the Vale’s fertility shall not block this marriage. I am hoping though that being Warden of the East and married to the Lady Regent of the Vale will be enough to entice the Red Viper away from his whore” Tywin mused.

“I will write a letter to Prince Doran today, you must be the one to inform the new bride” Tywin instructed his daughter, watching the small smirk that appeared on her face once she had received her instructions.

 

* * *

 

_Lord Tywin Lannister writes to the Honourable Doran, Prince of Dorne,_

_Doran, I am writing to you because I feel that it is time for Dorne to rejoin the seven kingdoms in truth as well as in law. Your brother, Prince Oberyn remains unwed and as such is a desirable match for any Lady. I propose a match between him and the Lady Regent of the Vale on the behalf of Lady Lysa Arryn herself. Her son is young and she cannot raise him, perform her duties as Lady Regent and become Warden of the East. If you would consent to this desirous match your brother would take upon himself the title Warden of the East, to be passed to Lord Robert Arryn when he comes of age._

_Sincerely, Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West._

* * *

 

Prince Doran sat in his wheelchair contemplating the letter that sat before him. It was infuriating, maddening. The _trụy lạc_ had the nerve to so condescendingly ask for a match between his brother and Lady Lysa Arryn. It was not a bad match, Doran knew and that made it worse. It would be impossible to refuse without good reason and those _thiếu hiểu biết phân biệt đối xử_ Northerner’s would not see Ellaria, mother of his children and soul mate as a good reason. They saw Dorne as weak and women as weak and saw no danger in allowing Doran, to on behalf of Dorne make allies of the Vale of Arryn, a region of Westeros who would be in time made bitter by their fall from power that came from the death of Jon Arryn. It was true that Dorne and the Vale together were not militarily threatening, that they could not raise the biggest armies or navies but Tywin Lannister had always been blinded by the allure of violence.

Tywin used violence to solve all of his problems, from what Doran could tell most of his problems stemmed from his use of violence to solve problems. He severely underestimated the power of diplomacy and its uses. The Vale and Dorne united would have no military might but they could become economically powerful. This was an opportunity for Dorne, for the Targaryen Restoration, Doran was sure that Ellaria would agree. Convincing Oberyn would be the real challenge.

The door to the Solar swung open, banging against the wall before slamming shut. Oberyn stood in the door way, Ellaria by his side.

“I suppose you have heard the news?” Doran questioned although he already knew the answer to his question. Nothing else would anger his brother so than hearing that there had been contact from the hated Lord of the Westerlands.

“What does the old lion want?” Oberyn hissed out, looking every inch the viper many proclaimed him to be.

“He wants an alliance, between us and the Vale, more specifically he wants a marriage between you and the Lady Regent of the Vale” Doran kept his tone level and empty of emotion. It would be better to let get his vitriol and anger out without it being directed at him.

“That _lai quái_ want’s what? I won’t do it. Why on earth would he think I or you would agree to that? I am happy with Ellaria in Dorne. The Arryn’s fought for Elia’s murderer just as much as the Baratheon’s. Who is he to demand that anyway? He is Lord of the Westerlands, he had no dominion over us, over me” Oberyn ranted. Doran sat, content to let him continue, however Ellaria spoilt that plan.

“Doran. Do you agree?” Ellaria asked. Ellaria was shrewder then most people would credit a woman could be, especially one as kind as her. Oberyn turned to Doran, his face filling with horror.

“Doran, brother. You cannot be considering this?” he asked, a desperate tone entering his voice.

“I am all but married to Ellaria. We have children together, your nieces and nephews” Oberyn all but begged when Doran did not respond.

“I am considering the marriage, as I must. I have not forgotten your children Oberyn. I love them as much as I loved Rhaenys and Aegon, more because I know them. Oberyn I will not force you to do this if you do not want to, all I ask is that you let me explain why I think it’s a good idea” Doran clarified. He waited till Oberyn nodded his agreement, which he did although the look on his face was unhappy in the extreme.

“Oberyn, Firstly it is a good marriage. The Lady of the Vale is powerful, even if the power will transfer to her son in ten or so years. Having that kind of influence would help Dorne achieve its goals. Allying with the Vale in such a way could help grow the economy of Dorne. It could also ensure that the Vale at least would not raise an army against us in the event of a Targaryen Restoration. It is also the best option if Tywin Lannister want’s to ally Dorne with the rest of Westeros. I would do it myself but I am still married in the eyes of the gods or at least in the eyes of their earthly representatives to Mellario” Doran explained. He could see Oberyn think the idea over when support came from an unexpected quarter.

“I think you should do it, Oberyn” Ellaria stated. She placed her hand on Oberyn’s arm and murmured something in his ear that Doran did not hear before she explained.

“Doran is right. If Dorne is to remain a part of Westeros we need to become a part of Westeros. A marriage north is a good idea and you, my love, as a beloved Prince of Dorne are an ideal candidate. You do not have to abandon Dorne itself if you marry this woman. You can marry her and then take a ship and visit once a year; she is a widow anyway and probably not aching for a stranger to fuck. If you marry Lady Arryn you will have access to the alliance that toppled the Targaryen’s. You could use that influence to prevent the Lannister’s from marrying into any families with large armies. This could help Doran to avenge Elia and her children” Ellaria crooned. “I will always love you, and I know that you will always love me. There is no inheritance for her to fight over” Ellaria reassured her paramour.

“I will stay in Dorne until either you return or you send for me.” Ellaria promised.

“Lover, we will not be parted for longer than six moons, I promise you that. No one will take your place in my heart and home” Oberyn proclaimed, holding Ellaria’s hands in his.

“Send the letters; I will ride at first light tomorrow. Give me tonight to say goodbye to my children” Oberyn swept out the door after kissing Ellaria’s hand, without waiting for Doran to reply. Doran turned to his goodsister.

“Thankyou for your support. I will do everything in my power to ensure that he has the freedom to be with you” Doran vowed.

* * *

 

Lysa ordered one of the new maids to fetch some sweet wine. Ever since Jon’s death and her failed bid for freedom she had been trapped in Kings Landing. Of course everyone acted as though they were here to support her through her time of mourning but she knew better, you did not live in this city for as long as she had without picking up a thing or two. The newly assigned maids were almost certainly spies; the only question was who they were spying for. Cersei or the newly appointed hand. Even Lysa in the tower of the hand had heard the bellow’s when the King had found out about his queen’s appointment but like always Robert shouted and drank and whored and forgot about it.

It was Tywin who was insisting she stay in the Red Keep, Lysa knew. Cersei had shown no inclination to befriend her or even tolerate her in the years they had lived side by side. All she had to do though was wait it out, wait until someone got bored or tired of watching her and she could make her escape, with Petyr. Unfortunately until then she still had to play nice. There was a knock at the door of the sitting room and Lysa gestured to one of her maids to open it as she sipped on her sweet wine. The Queen walked in trailed by one of her handmaids, a new girl Lysa had never seen before. Plain looking and with a seven sided star necklace. Chosen Lysa supposed in the hope that Robert would not fuck this one. One of the only positives about her marriage, her husband barely got it up for her let alone anyone else.

Lysa rose and curtseyed for Cersei, receiving a nod in return. She sat back down and debated offering the queen some sweet wine but decided against it, prolonging the visit was not something she wanted and the unsettling smile on the queen’s face did not encourage her.

“My dear Lady Lysa” the queen began, that queer smile remaining on her face. Lysa’s suspicions growing. Whatever she wanted would not be pleasant, Lysa had never been _dear_ to the queen and she doubted the queen had suddenly come over with affection for her.

“The death of your husband was a tragic loss for the entire country and we all mourn with you” Cersei simpered. Lysa doubted that Cersei mourned, and she knew that Cersei did not mourn with her because she did not mourn Jon herself, as horrible a thing as that might be to not mourn your husband.

“Thank you for your kind words. All I wish is to escape from my grief and mourn my husband in his home” Lysa responded her tone mimicking the Queen’s.

“Alone? Surely not. My husband loved your husband like a father and he will not hear of you being left alone to deal with your immense grief” Cersei said. Lysa kept her face clear although she was tempted to snort at the bald faced lies. Robert may have loved Jon like a father, but she doubted he had given any thought to her grief or to anything other than himself, or maybe Eddard.

“I would never presume to infringe on the King’s hospitality, and I would not be alone, I would have my son with me. Besides, surely your lord father would like me to vacate his new lodgings.” Lysa responded.

“Nonsense, you could never infringe on Robert’s hospitality.” Cersei countered. Lysa conceded that that was probably true enough; Robert cared little for who lived in the Red Keep. She remained silent in the hopes that Cersei would say or do whatever it was she came here for. The silence stretched out, as Lysa sipped her wine. Finally Cersei cracked and began speaking.

“I am here because the Hand, I and Robert were worried. We do not wish for you to spend the rest of your life alone, without companionship and we know that you cannot leave the Vale and your son to marry the Lord of another castle so we found a solution to the problem. We have arranged a betrothal for you, between yourself and Prince Oberyn of Dorne” Cersei smiled whilst she talked, as though she were sharing the greatest news to a dear friend.

Lysa felt as though cold water had been poured down her spine. Panic welled up from her gut and threatened to overtake her. She was being forced into marriage _again._ Forced to marry a man of more than forty years _again. Will I never have peace_ , echoed around her head.

“What?” Lysa said, her voice strangled. They shouldn’t be able to force her to do anything, she was the Lady Regent of the Vale, but her son was here and they could. They would.

“You will be married to Prince Oberyn, within a moon’s turn. We have written to Dorne to arrange the marriage and our sources say that the Prince is sailing for Kings Landing as we speak. He is a good match, and will not take you from your duties in the Vale” A little bit of pity had seeped into Cersei’s words at the end. It was not difficult to understand why they were doing this. Dorne had been apart from the rest of the realm for too long and now that the Daenerys Targaryen had married the Dothraki Khal, the need to ensure that Dorne would not rise should the exiled Prince and Princess turn their eyes back west was stronger than it had ever been. Lysa knew that as Lady of the Vale she was a good match for Prince Oberyn, the only other women of her age who could compete would be the Queen, and Lysa understood why Cersei had not leapt at the chance to be the Dornishmans bride.

“I – get out” Lysa hissed, throwing herself up and out of her chair. She used her bulk to loom over the queen and was momentarily satisfied when she saw a slight glint of fear in the other women’s eye.

“Of course, I will leave you to plan. I will send some of my seamstresses over to help you design a wedding gown. You will of course marry in the Sept of Baelor” Cersei declared, smiling quickly before taking her leave as a tear slipped down Lysa’s cheek. As Cersei left, a thought came unbidden into Lysa’s mind, _perhaps the Prince, with his famed Paramore and the Dornish love of beautiful things will dislike the look of me._ Lysa prayed that it would be true.

 

* * *

 

The sea was rough, the kingdom they passed living up to the name ascribed to it by men. They had been traveling past the Stormlands for two days now and Prince Oberyn prayed that the weather would be the worst thing that he encountered on this trip.

They arrived in the port of Kings Landing when the sun was still low in the sky. As he stepped on to the wharf Oberyn was suddenly overcome with nausea and turned to empty his stomach into the Blackwater. The stench coming of the city was enough to make him gag, though that was not what had caused him to lose his breakfast. It broke his heart that this cesspit was the last place that Elia had seen, that she had died here, away from the sea’s and sand of Dorne.

The welcoming party appeared to be led by the Old Lion himself, an honour fit for a Prince of Dorne, but one that Oberyn had dearly hoped not to be accorded. Nevertheless he was here now so he grit his teeth and tried to ensure his fantasies of murdering the man in front of him were not apparent.

“My Prince, I hope your travels were peaceful” Lord Tywin said. His courtesies were polished though both men knew he did not care one way or the other about Oberyn’s enjoyment of his travels.

“They were as peaceful as any ship passing through the waters around the Stormlands could hope to be” Oberyn replied. He detested the courtesies he was forced to spout, like lines in a never ending play. As the group made their way through the streets of Kings Landing, the stench beginning to cling to them, they passed a pillow house with the scent of _Vrachta,_ the Essosi drink bringing back memories of his exile. He made a note to visit it after he had met his soon to be wife. As they finally approached the chambers of the hand of the King, he wondered what he would find within. The Lady must still be residing there he supposed, otherwise Lord Tywin would surely not have brought him there.

They ascended the stairs slowly, Oberyn taking the time to admire the tapestries of the late hand of the king, the old falcon had better taste in art then he did kings, he hoped that taste had extended to wives. Lord Tywin ushered him into a sitting room, and promptly left Oberyn alone with his guards and a woman. Fat, with thick red hair that curled down her back, she could only be Lady Lysa. He bowed.

“My Lady, I am Prince Oberyn of the House Nymeros Martell, It is a pleasure to meet you” Oberyn avowed. What a pleasure it was too, he smiled as he looked upon the form of the woman he would marry. She was the very opposite of Ellaria, pale skin dotted with freckles, thick full arms, teats bursting out of her gown, strong thighs that he desperately wanted to make quiver. Ellaria would love to fuck her, and he would love to watch them together. Oberyn loved all different forms of the human body, loved dark glossy skin and tight hard stomachs, weeping cocks and cunts, he loved course hair and soft skin.

“Thank-you, my prince. I am Lady Lysa of the Houses Arryn and Tully” She curtseyed as she spoke, and Oberyn thought he caught a glimmer of attraction in her eyes. They were lined in the best way, lined from years of laughter.

“Well, future wife, shall we begin preparations for our wedding?” Oberyn asked with a charming grin.

Lysa smoothed the front of her dress down. The dove grey fabric soft underneath her fingers. It was a simple dress, cut to flatter her figure with ribbons of different shades of blue sewn into the silk. She was nervous, more for the bedding then the wedding. Lysa had seen enough wedding’s and knew enough of Lord Tywin to know  that nothing would prevent or interfere with his plans. Her poor Sweetrobin was waiting with his Septa in the Sept. He had been distraught when he heard that she would marry again, he accused her of disloyalty. It broke her heart but she knew she had to marry the prince. Only the gods knew what would happen to her baby if she didn’t.

* * *

 

As she entered the Sept Lysa noticed the orange and red silk hanging from the balustrades. Her new husband had taken the instruction to decorate the Sept as he wished to heart. They had agreed that he would deal with the wedding preparations while she ensured the following celebrations were organised. It had been difficult given how little time they had, but the gods knew how much she wished to leave the city she had called home for too long, and after what happened to Princess Elia, Lysa would bet her life Oberyn had no more desire then she to stay.

She walked up the aisle, arm in arm with the King. All her relatives were far away, and her son was too young to do it, so the King had offered, and one did not refuse the King. One could not refuse the King. His breath stank of sour wine, and he gripped her hand harshly. He had been apologetic when he offered to walk her down the aisle, saying he was sorry the damn Lannister’s were doing this, though she felt he was more sorry because it was so quick after the death of Jon Arryn then because he cared she was marrying a stranger. The walk was over to swiftly for Lysa’s liking, her hand placed in Prince Oberyn’s before she knew what was happening.

As the Septon droned on an on, Lysa became more and more nervous. This man was used to the pleasures of pillow houses, beautiful men and women, young beautiful men and women, and there was a pit of anxiety in her stomach then when the bedding came he would not like what he saw. She was so distracted by her thoughts that she did not notice ceremony was nearing an end, it was only when Prince Oberyn squeezed her hand that she jolted back to reality in time to hear the Septon say.

“And now, it is time to pledge your love”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love” Lysa declared quietly.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love” Oberyn vowed, cradling her head in his hands as he slanted his lips across hers and kissed. _My gods,_ Lysa thought, _this man knows how to kiss._ It was soft and firm at the same time. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nearly drawing a groan from within her. They broke apart to a smattering of applause, though she could see many ladies in the audience tittering behind their hands.

* * *

 

They sat together on a dais staring out at the sea of Lords and Ladies who had come to see the wedding. Lysa hoped that he enjoyed the feast she had arranged. It was short notice so she hadn’t time to get many Dornish dishes, the only dornish dishes out of the twelve were the fire-pepper braised peacock and the lemon curd filled biscuit. He seemed in good spirits though, she was glad to see he was drinking lightly. One of the only mercies she had received in her marriage was that her husband restrained himself from drink, although perhaps if he had drunk more he would have visited her bed chamber less.

“Wife, shall we dance?” Oberyn asked, rising up from his seat. She was startled and nodded, letting him lead her onto the dance floor. It was a Dornish tune that was playing, she could feel the rhythm in her bones. Her husband twirled her around, her dress fluttering about her ankles.

“Are you enjoying the wedding, my Lady?” Prince Oberyn asked, his head cocked to one side. Lysa thought about it for a moment before answering.

“I am enjoying it far more than I did my first wedding, however the location does leave something to be desired, even if the groom is far better looking” She flirted, watching with laughter bubbling up as Oberyn preened.

“Why, thank you, my Lady” Oberyn grinned, tipping her slightly as they danced around the room.

“Though, that is not saying much given that my first husband was already missing teeth on my wedding day” Lysa jested, or she attempted to, though from the look on Oberyn’s face it had fallen flat. He frowned slightly, before a smile reappeared on his face.

“Well, I shall just have to ensure that this wedding is more enjoyable” Oberyn winked at her then, before drawing her towards him and kissing her deeply. Lysa’s eyes fluttered shut, as she enjoyed the moment. It was only when the judgemental mutter’s grew too loud to ignore that she regretfully pulled away. The moment was broken however when some drunk knight let out a screech.

“Bedding! Bedding! Bedding!” was chanted over and over again by the guests. It had started with one man but now it seemed like everyone in the hall had taken up the chant. Men swarmed her and began pushing and shoving her out of the room, towards the chambers Oberyn was using, tearing at her clothes as they went. She knew from experience that it was better not to fight them, to just relax all her muscles and allow them to do what they wanted. They were far stronger after all and not likely to listen if she said no.

Lysa could hear laughter behind her, low and loud. _Oberyn,_ well at least he is enjoying these festivities. Ladies laughter filtered through a well, mixing with that of the men surrounding her. They reached the door and she was glad it was open, as she had no doubt they would have broken down the door and she wanted, no she needed privacy for what was to come. Lysa staggered into the room, wearing only her shift. She was grateful she had kept that, Lysa had heard horror stories about women that had ended up fully bare before they arrived at the rooms. The door closed softly, with a click.

It was time then. Lysa straightened her back and took a deep breath. _Find your brave, girl_ , she whispered to herself. She heard a clinking of cups and turned to see Oberyn pouring some sweet wine into two cups.

“Here, I heard you liked sweet wine” Oberyn said as he passed her a cup. Lysa took a moment to admire the cup; it was bronze and beautifully patterned. She took the cup with a smile, and tried to restrain herself from gulping it down. It was only after she had had a sip that she realized Oberyn had meant to toast with them.

“Oops, sorry” Lysa muttered, feeling her cheeks heat up as she and Oberyn tapped their cups together, her fingers shaking.

“It is no trouble. Lysa, why don’t you sit down, you are looking pale” Oberyn professed, sitting his cup down and guiding her to sit on the bed. She gulped back the rest of her drink, placing the cup behind her on the bed. Lysa took that moment to admire her husband; the planes of his body were beautiful. His chest dark and sprinkled with fine hairs. His stomach was firm when she raised her hand to touch it, pulling back immediately, blushing. Oberyn chuckled and she was mortified. He grasped her hand and pulled it back up to place it on his stomach.

“I am your husband now, lovely woman. You may touch me whenever you please” His voice was low and scratchy, making her breath catch. A brief smile danced across Lysa’s face before she remembered where she was and why they were there. _Best to get this over with_ , Lysa thought to herself grimly. She leant backwards, lifting her skirts, leaving herself bare; save her undergarments and spread her legs. Lysa kept her eyes shut, waiting for Oberyn to mount her and take his marital right. She prayed he would not take longer than Jon, though his breath was better.

Oberyn’s hands were suddenly on top of her own, pulling her shift down and pulling her, so she was seated upright. Lysa opened her eyes in confusion.

“Lysa, my darling. What are you doing” There was a frown on Oberyn’s face as he spoke.

“Lying down so that you can bed me” Lysa explained, confusing radiating from her every word. She watched as Oberyn’s frown deepened.

“Lysa, darling. You have already been married; there is no need for a bedding sheet. I cannot believe that after the way those drunkards pawed at you that you would want to fuck, and anyway, you were hardly prepared” Oberyn murmured, rubbing her arm soothingly. “We do not have to consummate the marriage tonight, or ever if you do not wish it, though I would be saddened if I could not tempt you to allow me to taste your cunt. I digress, though” Oberyn rambled, trying Lysa thought to provide comfort. His words were a jumbled mess in her head.

“You do not wish to bed me?” Lysa asked, there was relief in her voice but also not a small amount of hurt. This was a man who would supposedly bed anyone and he would not bed her. Oberyn groaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

“I wish to bed you, I want very badly to bed you, but you have had a bad night, and I wish not to bed anyone against their will, because they fear what should happen if they refuse me more than I wish to bed you.” Oberyn clarified. _Oh, well that changes things._ Lysa found herself inexplicably smiling. Oberyn smiled back at her.

“Sweetling, let us lie together tonight and when you are ready I will bed you, and love you and make you scream” Oberyn’s smile was wicked, as he stepped towards the Solar, grabbing some silk garment from a dresser.

* * *

 

“I have asked your maids to bring across some sleepwear for you, it should be in that chest of drawers” Oberyn gestured lazily to a beautiful, light Birchwood dresser. “I shall change in the Solar, give me a call when you are finished, yes” Oberyn asked, as he stepped through into the Solar. 

It had been three days since her wedding and other than the wedding night she had not shared a bed with her husband, Lysa was torn between relief and intrigue. The way Oberyn had spoken of the act of lovemaking or _fucking_ as he had called it left her curious. Though they had shared meals, and games of cyvasse, Lysa smiled when she recalled how shocked he had been that she knew how to play it; and in fact played quite well, they had yet to have the most important conversation. Oberyn had met Robert but they had yet to talk about his children, or his famed paramour.

“Oberyn, we need to talk” Lysa declared as they sat down to another game of cyvasse.

“That sounds serious, my princess” Oberyn replied, sitting down with a flourish.

“Yes, I suppose it is rather serious. I do not wish to live in Kings Landing for the rest of my life, or even for the rest of the year. It is high time Robert returns to the Eyrie, the thing is that as his Regent I must return with him. I understand you have duties to Dorne and cannot reside in the vale all of the time, but you must spend some time there. Oberyn, I have not heard you mention your paramour or your children. If you return with me to the Vale you must bring them with you. I will not have a husband of mine abandoning his children or lover just because they are bastards. I’ve seen Robert do it too many times to allow it to happen if there is anything I could do about it.” Lysa grinned at the slightly gobsmacked look on her husband’s face.

“I, you would allow me to bring my children to live with you? All my children?” Oberyn questioned a fierce look in his eyes. Lysa suddenly understood why people called him a viper.

“Yes. In fact I insist upon it. Just because a child is born out of the bonds of marriage does not make them any less, then a child born in a marriage, besides I wish to meet this lover of yours who has captured your interest for so long” Lysa reassured him, guessing he had thought her as bigoted towards bastards as the rest of non-Dornish Westeros. Oberyn sat back then, and Lysa was almost blinded by the force of his smile.

“I will write my family once this game of Cyvasse is over, Lysa. I am sure that Ellaria will be just as interested to meet you” Oberyn flirted, giving her body an exaggerated leer.

 

* * *

 

Ellaria sat on the back of a donkey, being led by a pretty girl who had introduced herself as Mya Stone. She was accompanied by all eight of her paramour’s daughters. Ellaria had been very surprised when she received the invitation to come stay in the Eyrie, with Oberyn and his wife. She had resigned herself to sharing Oberyn with a stranger, to having him only half the year, travelling between Sunspear and the Vale. Ellaria was also curious to meet this Lady Lysa, Oberyn had said she was lush, full bodied, soft although inexperienced in the ways of pleasure. Ellaria did love introducing people to pleasure. On they rode, Ellaria taking the time to thank the gods that her girls were so enamoured with their older sisters, they would have been nightmarish if she did not have Tyene and Sarella with her.

It was an imposing castle, smaller than Sunspear or the Water Gardens, alike with her childhood home the Hellholt. It was beautiful, although very cold. She was wrapped up in woollen garments and still, cold. Ellaria could see why the path they walked was called the giant’s lance. It felt very much like it would go on forever, her heart leapt when she saw the door to the castle. They had passed three way-castles, each more beautiful than the last if only because they showed their journey was nearing an end.

The door creaked open as they approached and Ellaria wondered for a moment how they had known to open the doors, before realising that they could be seen from mayhaps half the windows in this fortress. Standing in the doorway was her beloved, Oberyn and a lovely, fat Lady.

“Father”

“Papa”

“Cha”

“My children, Ellaria” Oberyn exclaimed opening his arms to embrace them all.

* * *

 

Oberyn’s children had taken well to the Eyrie, something she was glad of since Lysa herself had not been quite enamoured of the castle when she first arrived. The youngest had taken Robert under their wings, and were currently in the middle of a giant game of hide and seek. The elder girls also seemed to have found their footings rather well in the week they had been staying. The Lady Nym had been rather taken with Myranda Royce and they could be found giggling together most of the time. Mya Stone and Obara seemed to get along rather well too, with the Dornish girl teaching Mya Stone how to use a spear. Sarella seemed to be enjoying herself, having been immersed in the library. It was small though it had some original manuscripts dating from the time’s when the Arryn’s were kings. Tyene seemed to split her time between the Sept and the rookery, constantly sending missives to her cousin, the Crown Princess Arianne.

Her hands fluttered as she dabbed some lilac oil on her neck and wrists. Lysa had decided that she would consummate her marriage tonight. The identical grins on the face of Ellaria and Oberyn made her blush to remember. She had decided to invite her husband’s paramour into their bed for two reasons. To begin with, Ellaria was captivating, gorgeous and Lysa wanted, every time she looked at Ellaria she was filled with _want._ The second reason, something she would never admit aloud, for fear of offending her husband, who had been nothing but kind to her, was that she was afraid. Her experiences with her first husband in the marital bed had been by turns, painful, humiliating and uncomfortable. This way, should her experiences with Jon prove to be what all fucking was like there would be someone else to take his attentions.

* * *

 

Lysa was dressed in her finest, Myrish lace undergarment’s; a gift she had given herself on the tenth anniversary of her wedding to Jon. There was a knock on the door and Lysa stood.

“Come in” She called out, a smile on her face.

Lysa awoke, in a tangled mess of limbs. Her head resting on something firm, and warm. She blinked her eyes, trying to sit up, before realising there was an Oberyn sleeping half on top of her, using her stomach as a pillow. She twisted her head to meet the laughter filled eyes of Ellaria. _So that’s what I was sleeping on, Ellaria’s shoulder_ Lysa thought to herself. Her body was warmer, and she felt more content then she had ever been in her first marriage.

“Lover, did you sleep well” Ellaria’s voice was croaky and soft, and Lysa found herself distracted, staring at Ellaria’s lips and remembering just how skilled the other woman was with them. Her cunt ached, in the best possible way.

_So that’s what it’s supposed to be like. No wonder the Queen left her husband’s bed._

“I slept wonderfully, Ellaria” Lysa replied, lust in her voice as she leaned up to capture Ellaria’s lips with her own, tipping Oberyn off the bed as Ellaria rolled on top of her.

**Author's Note:**

> I used Vietnamese as a stand in for Rhoynish. The translations are from google translate, so if there are any inaccuracies, I apologize and will of course edit them.  
> trụy lạc - bastard  
> thiếu hiểu biết phân biệt đối xử - ignorant discriminatory  
> lai quái – interbred fuck  
> Cha - father.


End file.
